Emma's Triggers
by Steve2
Summary: Taylor Hebert triggered, turned into a cape, and became the hero of Worm. This is not a story about Taylor. It is a story about Emma (the girl who bullied Taylor into triggering), and how Emma triggered instead. Triggered with a power that no one would ever want. Including her.
1. Chapter 1: Rainbows

Chapter 01: Rainbows

By Steve2

Beta by World Theory

**Author's Notes:**

I didn't do it. I wasn't there. You're mistaking me for someone else. I was in Buffalo that day. Trust me. What're you – a cop? No? Okay. Then let me tell you a story…

Anyone who read my **Charlie Does the Foxtrot – A New** **Take** learned that I have a penchant for swearing. This story ups that swearing. There is no gratuitous sex here. Nada. Nothing. There is, however, a lot of swearing. You have been warned. I swear.

This story is a comedy. It is not a drama. There _may_ be some drama situations here. But overall, this story is a comedy. Maybe even a crack-fic if I play my cards right. Of course, the game is Go Fish – and I have the makings of an inside straight.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Worm, or anything else for that matter. This is a work of fiction. It was, in part, influenced by the movie: Mystery Men, which I will freely admit was a truly awful movie, but I still loved the characters. Especially the tinker who invented the blame gun. And as for Captain Amazing, played by Greg Kinnear, I could see him easily fitting into the Worm-verse, likely as the face of the PRT.

**-oo00oo-**

**Introduction:**

In late 2017, I was introduced to the web-serialized story called **Worm**. For those not familiar with that story, here is a quick, very _high_-_level_ Worm overview of what is important to this story: on a parallel world there exists people who, when they have a really, really… _really_ bad day, they tend to trigger a superpower. This is in fact called a trigger event. In the original Worm story, several girls torment the hero of that story (the hero: Taylor Hebert) into a trigger event. Two of the girls that did this to Taylor are Emma Barnes (her former BFF), and Sophia Hess (never a BFF in any way, shape, or form). Worm is a story about Taylor and how she must save the world.

This story is not about that at all. In fact, while Taylor **is** in this story, she **is not** the protagonist here. She is still the overall hero, but in no way is the center of this story. Instead, herein lies a story of an alternate Taylor on an alternate Earth who at one time had an alternate BFF named Emma Barnes, and together they went out for ice cream one alternate fateful day.

**-oo00oo-**

**March 17, 2009, 9:16pm**

On a rainy evening, Annette Hebert, Taylor's mother was on her cell phone as she drove home from work. She never saw the other vehicle, and never made it home. It was a crappy way to die, and her husband knew it as he prepared for the funeral. He knew that he had to be there for his daughter. He couldn't go to pieces, not at that time. Later, he would. Later.

That one little thought changed the way of the world. Danny Hebert and his daughter, Taylor, grieved for the missing third person in their family. It would take time for them to move on. It might never even happen, but the hope was still there. And because Danny never fell to pieces, he never shipped his daughter off to a week of camp during the summer of 2009. As such, Taylor and her best friend, Emma, hung out as much as possible. The two girls were ready to begin 9th grade, even in Brockton Bay's public school, which as they both knew, really sucked.

**-oo00oo-**

**August 26, 2009, 11:47am**

Emma was glad her friend was finally starting to act normally again since the death of her mother. She was also glad that her father decided to take the two of them to the new ice cream shop on the Boardwalk. Emma had heard positive reviews about it. It was going to be great. She just knew it.

An hour later, she thought she was going to die.

**-oo00oo-**

DESIGNATION… AGREEMENT.

**-oo00oo-**

**September 7, 2009, 11:03pm**

_August. Hot. Dad was home. Taylor was over visiting. No camp after all. Smiles. Hot. Dad suggested going to get ice cream. Boardwalk. Okay. In car. Dad driving. Taylor in back with other. Traffic heavy. Hot. Short cut. Alley. Half in. End now blocked. Dad gets out to move trash bins. Taylor gets out to help Dad. Worry._

_Dad and Taylor moving big trash bin attacked by leering, jeering, snarling arms, hands, nasty words. _

_Window smashed by rock! Arms. Heads. Leering, jeering, snarling. Cuts. Shouting. Dragging other out. Kicking, shouting, cursing, knife shown. No, no, no! Bite hand holding other's arm. Bit. Slapped back. Hands reaching again. Tear top. Kick out. Get knee. Slapped back. Knife shown. Evil laughter. Knife shown. Slapped back. Knife shown. Slapped back. Knife shown. Slapped back. Knife shown._

"Aaaaaaahhh!" Emma shouted, abruptly sitting up in bed, her top soaked with sweat, her sheets needing to also be changed.

Emma looked around, shaking, sweating, but ultimately calming down. It was night. A quick glance at her green-digital alarm clock indicated it was 2:14am. She heard thumps closing in on her room.

Her bedroom door opened and her father rushed in. It was his turn tonight. Her mother had scream-duty last night.

"Another dream?" He blinked his eyes to get rid of the confusion caused by lack of sleep.

"Yeah," Emma replied with a frown. "Sorry." She grabbed the bottle of water on the floor by her nightstand and took a couple gulps. "I just can't seem to stop remembering that day…"

"I know, sweetie," Alan Barnes soothed, sitting on the corner of her bed. "You'll get through this. You're tougher than anyone else. You're a Barnes, so that means you'll be just fine."

She nodded and laid back down, oblivious to the damp pillow. She watched as her father started to leave, closing the door behind him.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"If something had happened… um… in the alley…" She paused. "Would you still have, you know, wanted me here?"

"Oh, Emma," Alan was unsure if he had the right facial expression but hoped it would do the trick. "Of course I would. Your mother and I love you. Nothing will ever change with that. And nothing happened in that alley that you can't move past from. We good?"

"Yeah," she replied. "We're good."

Her father closed the door, a trail of mostly-blue light scent following him.

Emma didn't want to see the light, and in truth, she couldn't. But ever since that fateful visit to the alley, just a few weeks ago, she had been able to smell the lights. She instinctively inhaled longer than normal through her nose. She smelled strawberries. And something else. She grimaced.

Weeks ago, after Emma woke up in the hospital with a small bump on her head, she had smelled many different things. It was not horrible, but not great. She had initially thought it was just normal smells at a hospital. She paid it no mind as she was brought home later that same day. The smells diminished, but never went away.

Emma was not the brightest bulb in the house, but she wasn't a complete idiot. She noticed the smells and began to pick up a pattern. She monitored smell after smell and kept a journal. Well, a notebook really. Well… the notebook she was going to use for her math class since she really didn't figure it would get much other use anyway.

Pattern identified, she then went online and began researching. It took many hours of research to finally find the best mascara to go with her new school outfits, and only 20 minutes to find what she didn't really want to know. Interesting fact: the human body tends to emit bodily gas roughly 20 times a day. She learned that while gas comes from the food a person eats, it does not just come out once a person is done eating. Oh no, not at all.

Emma quickly picked up that gas exited the body by two ways: burping, or tooting. Undigested food moved from the small intestine to the large intestine. Once there, stomach bacteria would go to work, making hydrogen, carbon dioxide, and methane, which then made itself known to the host body that it really, _really_ wanted to get out and spread the wealth.

Like virtually everyone on Earth, Emma had a working nose. She could smell farts. Some were weak (she appreciated those). Some were noisy and embarrassing, and the less said the better. Others were just plain awful.

At the end of August 2009, Emma understood something: she was a cape. And all she could think about it was: big damn deal. So what if she was a cape. Did she get the power to fly? Hell no. Did she get a power to beat up the bad guys? No to that as well. She did give small thanks that she didn't become a thinker or tinker for the last thing she wanted to be known as was a geek (not that she knew that an enhanced sense of smell could be classified as a thinker power). Not with her looks going for her that is. She had plans to be a model and wasn't going to allow a geek power to get in her way.

Still, she was a cape and what did she get? She got the ability to instinctively assign rainbow colors to people's gas. As her father left, she smelled that blue curve. It was the strawberry ice cream tooting out softly behind him.

She turned her pillow over and went back to sleep. Screw him and that growing lactose intolerance problem he had.

As Emma tried to go back to sleep, many things rolled through her head. Most pertained to the alley and the gang members. None of her thoughts went to her power. This was probably a good thing since she was not science-inclined at all and would have not understood how the over 900 kinds of olfactory receptors in her nose began talking on the cellular level with the three types of optical receptors in her eyes. Had she been so inclined to gain a better understanding of what was going on in her new digital scenting, it would have required her to understand the molecular structure of odors as well as gain a better understanding of the exteroceptive systems in a human body. And since she couldn't balance a checkbook account that generally only carried $100 or less, talking science to her was like asking a dog to give its opinion on the comedic writings of Franz Kafka. Hah! Trick question unless you were a bug.

Emma drifted off to an orange glow she could have sworn smelled of limes.

**-oo00oo-**

**September 8, 2009, 7:47am**

Emma and Taylor were dropped off by Taylor's dad at the front of Winslow High bright and early along with several thousand other kids in a massive wave of teenage humanity all trudging along to a drab three-story building that had two entrances. The girls had their backpacks, and in Taylor's case, a packed lunch since buying lunch was not always an option due to her family's financial well-being.

The two found their lockers, which oddly enough were next to one another, and as the first bell rang Taylor waved encouragingly to Emma as she headed to another part of the building for her first class. "See you in 3rd period, Emma," she smiled as she ran for the steps.

Emma began walking to her classroom which was just around the corner. She knew she and Taylor would meet in English (3rd period), and then for lunch. And that was it. They had a lot of different classes. Subconsciously, Emma couldn't help but feel like she was back in the alley again. She had been abandoned by Taylor in that alley then too. Emma was on her own… again.

A few steps later her mood changed entirely. Her classroom already had kids in there, but no teacher yet. She noticed Sophia Hess right away. Or as she knew her: Shadow Stalker. It was hard not to notice Sophia Hess that morning. All the kids noticed her. Especially Larry Brewster, the Empire Eighty-Eight wanna-be stooge that Sophia was bashing around. Sophia had the freshman skinhead in an arm hold, his left arm behind his back, while using her other hand to smash his head against the wall a few dozen times. She also had a few choice words for the young youth.

"Fuck you, skinhead! I don't give a shit if you like the color of my skin or not. I don't fucking care one fucking bit, you fuck-face! Know why? 'Cause I would like nothing better than to fucking smash your fucking punk-ass head in! Got it, fuck-face?! Now, you gonna be my bitch, or do I gotta fuckin' kill you, you goddamn piece of crap?! You gonna let me have that desk in the back row for the rest of the year, or do I have to fuckin' beat the shit outta you?!"

Emma smiled at the recognition. Why not? She had seen something very similar to that conversation just a few weeks ago, on the 27th, in a very specific alley. It was music to her ears.

Emma recalled everything when she had been pulled from the car, through the broken window, which cut her several times on her arms, back, and legs. Asian teens were whooping it up, thinking she was easy prey. They leered and jeered, saying they were going to have fun with her before selling her. She was no one's piece of meat, she recalled. She struggled and managed to kick a couple of the ABB members in their balls, one even going to the ground. She was not going to go lightly.

That was when Shadow Stalker had showed up. She grabbed one ABB by the neck and shoved him into a wall, bashing his head against the side of the building similar to the way Sophia was doing with poor Larry's skull. Shadow Stalker dropped her attacker and then grabbed a piece of rebar and went to town on the other ABB guys who were unsure if to let Emma go, or attack Shadow Stalker. They should have run, but Emma was glad they didn't.

"You fuckers want to snatch a young girl to sell? Is that it, you goddamn fuckers?!" she had yelled that day in the alley. "Well, here I am; come and get me, you pieces of shit! But if you don't get me, I'm going to turn you all into my bitches! Is that what you want, you crap bastards?!"

Back in the present, the second bell rang, and Sophia stopped her lecture to Larry the E88-wannabe and let the poor sap fall, his face still bleeding. A teacher came in, oblivious (either intentionally or unintentionally) to what had just happened, and not bothering to look at Larry. Sophia took the seat in the back row. Emma took the seat next to her.

"Hi," Emma extended her hand to Sophia. "My name's Emma. Let's be friends. Nice blood splatter pattern on the wall, by the way."

Sophia smiled at the other girl's comment.

Emma knew one thing at that point, after she met Sophia and witnessed how she handled the seating arrangements in that classroom she knew she wanted to be more like Sophia Hess than she wanted to be like Taylor Hebert. Taylor was a sweet girl, she knew deep down, but she was too much a downer for her anymore.

"Sophia," the girl replied, shaking the hand.

"Do you have some time after school for us to talk?" Emma inquired before the teacher got started with roll call.

**-oo00oo-**

"I want to be strong like you," Emma said to her new friend, Sophia. Her fists were clenched, there was determination in her voice, but there was a tremor of fright as well. They were near the alley where Emma had been dragged from her father's car by the ABB gang members.

The first day had continued much like Emma had thought it would. Emma met Taylor in English, and later in the lunchroom, where she introduced her to Sophia. Emma spoke favorably about her new friend, Sophia. And Sophia didn't hold back a snarl on her end, nor the disdain she had of Taylor. At the end of lunch, Emma informed Taylor that she would not need a ride home with her, and her father after all. That she needed to do something after school and to not wait for her. Reluctantly, Taylor said she would tell her dad and would call Emma later.

At the end of the day, Emma met up with Sophia and the two of them headed off in the direction of the Boardwalk. All too soon they were near… that place. Emma stood straighter as she felt her new friend judging her worth.

"I want to be strong like you," Emma repeated, looking at Sophia's face. The girl was strong and would make Emma strong. "Can you make me strong?"

"I can," Sophia replied evenly. "But there is a price."

"What kind of price?"

"Being strong means showing your strength. You need to be strong. You can be a friend, or you can be the strong leader. You can't be both."

Emma digested this for a couple minutes. "What do I need to do?"

"Break from your old bestie. That Taylor wimp. She's a loser and will pull you down. You need to be strong, Emma. Strength equals power. Power equals telling those fucks to shut it when you are in the right and they are in the wrong."

"Dump Taylor?" Emma said the words aloud, hearing the suggestion she was making to herself.

"Yes. Dump that fucking wimp. She's not strong. Don't be a wimp, Emma. Be strong."

"Okay."

**-oo00oo-**

Once home, Emma headed for the kitchen. Smile on her face, she stopped at the doorway as her mother and father were setting the table and getting ready to sit down for dinner. She immediately noticed a red arc mixed with yellow splotches.

Shit. Her mother made Nacho-Taco surprise, and her father already had a sample. She instinctively knew this was going to smell like a lousy night.

But she would be strong and get through it.

**-oo00oo-**

**Author comments: **

Some time ago I put out a request on CaerAzkaban's yahoo group to think of some interesting lame powers. Many responses were given and some of those powers will be in here.

Should any reader have a suggestion of a lame power, feel free to send a message to me, or enter it as a comment in this story. I do have quite a bit of this story plotted, but there is always room to explore different avenues.

I will say this: Emma's powers are lame for a reason, and not just for comedic effect. Well, not _entirely_ for comedic effect. However, that reason will not be clear for many more chapters.


	2. Chapter 2: Pee Break

Chapter 02: Pee Break

By Steve2

**Author's Note:**

I didn't do it. I wasn't there. You're mistaking me for someone else. I was in Buffalo that day. Trust me. What're you – a cop? No? Okay then. Disclaimer: This story has a lot of swearing. There is no gratuitous sex here. Nada. There is, instead, a lot of swearing. You have been warned. Oh, and I don't own Worm, or anything else for that matter. This is a work of fiction.

**-oo00oo-**

**Wednesday, September 9, 2009, 10:22am**

Emma was on a mission. That mission: dump Taylor Hebert and show the world she was a survivor, that she was strong, and that she was not going to take any prisoners.

It was third period. She and Taylor shared a class. Emma sat next to Taylor. Taylor's book was on her desk, and her attention distracted by another student on Taylor's left. Perfect. Emma leaned over and poured some Krazy Glue on the cover of her book, and then put a paperback on the glue.

Taylor didn't see her do it, but she suspected it was her since she had the time and was nearby. But Taylor didn't know why her best friend would do that.

**-oo00oo-**

**Monday, September 14, 2009, 7:55am**

Taylor Hebert stepped off the city bus with a slew of other kids that morning. Now that she had her bus pass, she didn't want her father to drop her off at school anymore. Especially since she'd have to answer why she and Emma didn't ride to school together any longer.

As she walked into the school she was tripped by Emma who had hidden behind another girl. Taylor lost her balance and fell, her backpack spilling to the ground, and her lunch crushed by a math text. Students openly laughed as she got to her feet. Emma's laugh was the loudest.

**-oo00oo-**

**Thursday, September 17, 2009, 12:10pm**

Taylor sat near a few students, but not with anyone in the lunchroom. David Lynch (no relation), a fellow freshman and in her math class stopped by her table to ask her a math question. Answer given, he walked away, not thanking her. Oh well.

She had brought her lunch (as usual) which was laid out in front of her. Sandwich (homemade), juice (re-used bottle filled at home), and chips (purchased at store since neither she nor her father wanted to try making chips again – not after spending several hours cleaning up the mess from the last time.

She took a bite of her sandwich. Chewed. And spit it out. Her face recoiled in disgust. She pulled the top bread aside to look at the interior of her sandwich. There were now pencil shavings sprinkled everywhere. The popular girls' table broke out in laughter. Emma's braying laugh was loudest of all.

**-oo00oo-**

**Tuesday, September 22, 2009, 7:49am**

The hallways were crowded as Taylor made for her locker before classes began. For some reason there were more kids than normal in that area of the school and they kept elbowing her, telling her to watch out before she got stomped.

Annoyed, Taylor never noticed when her backpack zipper was unzipped, but she did notice a few elbow whacks later when the backpack was knocked ajar and her books, papers, and yes, lunch was spilled onto the floor.

It was no surprise, but it still hurt to see her fellow classmates, especially Emma, walk by, and walk on her assignments, books, and lunch. Emma especially took a vicious delight in stomping the brown bag flat.

**-oo00oo-**

**Tuesday, September 22, 2009, 12:19pm**

Taylor was beginning to despise the lunchroom. Something was liable to happen. It was only a matter of time. It usually was. She sat at an out-of-the-way table. It was small and no one else sat with her. Not even the other outcasts of the school. She was below even them.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Madison head towards the lunch line. She must have cut others off as she exited the serving area moments later and headed towards Taylor. She began gathering up her things, putting the remaining lunch back in the brown paper bag it was in earlier.

"Oops!" Madison "tripped", spilling a cup of uneaten chocolate pudding over Taylor's math textbook. "Must have tripped. Oh well." She headed back to the popular girls' table. The same table where everyone was laughing and pointing at her.

**-oo00oo-**

**Friday, September 25, 2009, 9:01am**

Taylor sat at her desk in second period. This was another class she had come to despise. Not due to coursework, but due to curse-work.

"Hebert," Sophia Hess sneered behind her. "Why the fuck are you even in this class? Don't you have somewhere else to go? Like down to an alley and suck a merchant or something? You're a fucking loser, Hebert. You know that?"

Taylor turned to Sophia, a glare on her face. "Why are you saying mean things like that?"

"Because I _can_, and because you are _worthless_. I could give a shit if you lived or died. Everyone here thinks the same way. You are a total waste of space. So why don't you just fuck off and die?"

**-oo00oo-**

**Monday, September 28, 2009, 3:01pm **

The last school bell of the day rang and the throng of students began leaving Winslow as fast as they could. Taylor headed for her locker when she was tripped. Her backpack again went sprawling and books and papers came out where they were stepped on by the other students who were either complicit with Emma and Sophia's attempts to bully her or were just indifferent to her.

Taylor collected her things and headed towards her locker again. There were fewer students now. They were all headed for buses and other means to go home. Once at her locker, she noticed her lock was shiny from moisture. Further inspection of that moisture indicated it was glue. Rolling her eyes, she went to find maintenance.

She missed her bus home and had to walk.

**-oo00oo-**

**Thursday, October 1****st****, 2009, 1:39pm **

Location: 9th grade PE Class. Activity: Dodgeball.

Class had started 30 minutes earlier. However, it took about 15 minutes for the teams to be decided for the fun of playing that grand school sport: dodgeball. The idea for the sport was simple: get the ball and throw it at an opposing team member. If it hits them without them first catching it, they are out. If they catch it, then the person who threw it was out. What wasn't so simple to comprehend (at least for some players) was how the throws were to be made and the hits scored. Bloody noses were not uncommon.

The gym teacher, Mr. Stubbins, didn't care who was out or in. He just wanted the keep the little shits busy and out of his hair while he took a smoke break. His reasoning for doing this was simple: how much trouble could a class of 9th graders get into for a few minutes while he stood outside the door and puffed away?

The answer, of course, was quite a lot.

For example, Jimmy Woo noticed the absence of the teacher and nodded to his friend, Johnny Wu (who was on the opposing team) in a pre-arranged signal. Jimmy had been keeping track of the usual smoke-break times taken by Stubby, or Stooby, or whatever that old gym guy's name was. He had told Johnny and the two came up with a plan to impress his older brother who was in the ABB.

Emma had the ball and threw it. Johnny caught it in his stomach area and bent over as if hurt. All the players stopped to see the bent over and obviously hurting student.

"Oooohhh, Emma," Johnny said in pain. "Why'd you throw it so hard? You a brute or something?"

Emma's mouth opened and closed several times as she tried to take in what had happened. Was she a brute? Had she missed something?

Johnny, still bent over with the ball in his stomach area, had moved closer to Emma with staggered steps.

"Are you all right?" Emma asked as he came within arm's length of her.

"Ooooohh, it hurts, Emma. Here, why don't you take this ball," he said, handing her the ball while still bent over.

Emma took the ball and as soon as both of her hands were on the ball, then both of Johnny's hands went to the bottom of Emma's shorts and yanked them down to her ankles.

Johnny stood up and began laughing. That was all it took. The rest of the class (save Emma's friends) also broke out laughing.

"Love the Legend logo, Emma!" yelled one of the girls that had been targeted more than once by Emma and her sick pranks.

Emma quickly dropped the ball and pulled her shorts back up. Of all the days to wear her Legend underwear, she chastised herself mentally. "Shit! This day **can't** get any worse!" she snarled as she adjusted her shirt inside the shorts.

"Did you have to date Legend to get him to sign your undies, Emma?" Johnny inquired loudly.

"Shut up, fuck-face!" Emma replied. Her face had turned red.

Emma never saw Jimmy Woo come up behind her and slap her tush. She spun immediately and saw him give her a suggestive wink to even more laughter (primarily from the rest of the boys in the class), before he was pushed away by Emma's friends.

Emma screamed in frustration and yelled, "It _**can**_ get worse! Fucking worst day ever!"

**-oo00oo-**

DESIGNATION… AGREEMENT.

**-oo00oo-**

Coach Stubbins, who did coach track and field, rushed back in despite carrying any extra 105 pounds, mostly around his gut. It didn't take him long to realize that those little shits had gotten up to something and that one of the girls was red faced and likely to tell someone if he didn't get her calmed down and out the door before he could retire at the end of the year.

"Barnes! You're done for the day. Head for the lockers. Meanwhile I think some laps are in order for you boys, right?"

"I'm excused too," Hess yelled over her shoulder as she took Emma to the locker room.

"You are," Stubbins said loudly to the retreating pair. Hess was on his track team. He figured she might give Barnes some of that emotional support crap he had heard of. It was better than letting her stay here and going ape-shit on whichever punk was responsible for whatever it is they did. Bastards.

Once in the locker room, Sophia checked for anyone else as Emma opened her locker. Once she verified the two were alone, she walked up to Emma and berated, "What the fuck, Emma? You need to be strong, like I told you."

Emma looked at her in confusion and replied, "What?"

"Shit happens, you know that. When it does, you need to just pull your shorts up, turn around, and punch that little fucker in his smug-ass fucking face! Knock some teeth out or something. Just don't take it!"

"Goddammit, Sophia, I can't be a superhero like you. You've got this great power and all I've got is a stupid, little shitty power." Emma sat on the bench in front of the lockers.

Sophia spent almost one entire second as shocked and then sat herself. "Wait," she clarified. "You have powers?! What the fuck?"

Emma knew the day would come when she would tell Sophia that she had powers. She had rehearsed it in her head many times. She would tell her friend about her powers and her friend would have respect for her. Her powers would be glorious. She would be somebody. She would be a contender.

However, at that moment, she wasn't thinking of her rehearsed speech and succinctly said, "Yeah, I have powers. I can assign rainbows to people's farts. Big damn deal."

Sophia didn't know how to process that. It was so… so… she had no words. "Wait. What?"

"See? That expression. That is why I didn't want to tell you earlier. It is a stupid power. Someone farts and I can sense the rainbow qualities of their gas. Big whoop. This is a useless power."

"Well, uh," Sophia thought of how to use that power. "What if you were on the top of a warehouse and needed to take some punks down below you. Could you do that?"

"Not unless I fell on them. I don't have brute ability with this fart power."

"Well, how about being able to sense all people in that warehouse?"

"I guess if someone were to send them some burritos with extra beans and they all ate them, then I might be able to tell how many people there were and where they might be in the warehouse as long as they all had gas and were farting enough. Maybe."

Emma, now dressed in school clothes, pulled a bottle of water from her gym bag and chugged the entire bottle down. The last 10 minutes had been a tiring experience for her.

"What is the range of your ability?" Sophia inquired, also getting dressed in her school clothes, which technically, wasn't that different from her gym attire.

"So far? About 10 to 15 feet. I'll be right back. Bladder calls."

Winslow was a school that had multiple levels. The gym was on the main floor. The locker rooms were also on the main floor. Emma found a (relatively) clean stall and took a seat. She tried to block out Sophia's latest crime scenario where rainbow-fart detecting could be useful. It was a lousy power. Plain and simple.

PISSSSPOWWW!

As Emma relieved herself, she had heard a sudden squirt at a loud velocity and the sound of a ceramic bowl breaking. Fortunately done, she got up from the toilet before the water that was now draining from the commode touched her shoes.

"What the fuck was that?" Sophia yelled, rushing into the toilet stall area.

Emma opened the door as Sophia looked around for confrontation. Sophia quickly noticed the water in the stall and the damage on the toilet itself. "What did you do?" she asked calmly.

"Nothing," Emma breathed hard, still startled by the sound that came from… somewhere. "I didn't do anything."

Not wanting to be blamed for anything, the two girls took off before the rest of the girls in the gym class showed up. No one saw them, so they had deniability.

What Emma didn't realize at that time was that she had shot a stream of pee at hydraulic pressure speed. Now, Pascal's law is the basis of hydraulic drive systems. As the pressure in the system is the same, the force that the fluid gives to the surroundings is therefore equal to pressure × area. In such a way, a small piston feels a small force and a large piston feels a large force. The pushing or pulling force of a hydraulic cylinder goes as follows:

F = Ab * pb - Ah * ph

F = Pushing Force in N

Ab = (π/4) * (Bottom-diameter)^2 [in m2]

Ah = (π/4) * ((Bottom-diameter)^2-(Piston-rod-diameter)^2)) [in m2]

pb = pressure at bottom side in [N/m2]

ph = pressure at cylinder head side in [N/m2]

Simple hydraulic cylinders have a maximum working pressure of about 70 bar. The next steps go to 140 bar, 210 bar, 320/350 bar and so on. In general, the cylinders are custom built. The stroke of a hydraulic cylinder is limited by the manufacturing process, or in this case, by the manufacturing of a new power in Emma. Generally, the majority of hydraulic cylinders have a stroke between 0, 3, and 5 meters, whereas 12-15-meter stroke is also possible, but for this length only a limited number of suppliers are on the market. For example, high-pressure water-guns are available up to 600 BAR, or 8000 PSI.

Simple, right?

No?

Then think of it this way: Pascal's law states that when there is an increase in pressure at any point in a confined fluid, there is an equal increase at every other point in the container. Since Emma's body was the container, and her new bullshit power increased the pressure on her bladder, this made her pee come shooting out as fast as a bullet. Which did an equal amount of damage _as_ a bullet, had the bullet been a thin stream of yellow liquid.

In other words, her pee went through the porcelain commode in a straight line. It then went through the floor. It also went through the subfloor and did not stop until it had gone a meter below the concrete slab.

Of course, the janitor never noticed the hole in the concrete as the rest of the concrete subfloor was cracking and flaking off since it was successfully rotting. As for the commode being ruined and leaking, he knew it had to be either the Empire 88 or ABB gangs being punks again. Bastards. The lot of them. He got out his mop.

**-oo00oo-**

**Thursday, October 1****st****, 2009, 4:32pm **

Once home, Emma was still angry and embarrassed so cajoled her mother into taking her shopping. Shopping would do the trick. It never failed to cheer her up. This lasted all of nine minutes before she had to find a bathroom and relieve herself again.

Sale rung up, the saleswoman pointed to where the store bathrooms were and went to help the mother. As it happened, a loud road maintenance truck rumbled by at a slow pace, and a procession of cars behind it honking for the damn truck to get out of the way when Emma peed again, with the same results as earlier that day.

Pee-zing, a line of yellow went through the porcelain and into the floor. Horrified at what happened, her anger slipped and super-cool numbers began flooding into her head. Super-cool if she were a mathlete or something. She wasn't one and didn't get the significance of all the numbers save these: 1) she now understood how much liquid she could ingest before she had a force of pee to get rid of, and 2) even though the pee could move at lethal levels, it was still affected by gravity so a killing stream required a downward arc.

Emma was fast enough on her feet to make it out of the bathroom without the puddle being too big. She then grabbed her mother, the packages, and out the door they went. A few minutes later they were home and she ran upstairs to her room to call Sophia.

It didn't take long for her to get Sophia on the line, but it did take Sophia several minutes to figure out what Emma was saying since Emma was 1) excited, and 2) tended to sound like a chipmunk on crack when speaking fast which happened when she was excited. Sophia chuckled now and then when she thought about Emma getting laid.

Sophia finally put the phone to her ear and said, "Slow down, Emma. What is so important again?"

"I've got another power!" she admitted in a forced whisper, not wanting her parents to know. Hah! That was how she wanted to tell Sophia.

"What kind of power?"

"Oh… uh, I can pee really hard." Hmm, that _definitely_ was not what she wanted to say to Sophia. There had to be a better way to spin that story.

"Everyone can do that."

"Hard enough to have a squirt go through the toilet and break it?"

"Shit! That was you?!"

"It was… and I just realized it is another fucking lame power. Christ, why can't I get something good," Emma complained.

Sophia shook her head and replied, "No idea. But you are sure as shit getting the short straw of the power club."

"Oh shit!"

"What?" Sophia tensed.

"How the hell am I going to go to the bathroom now? I keep breaking toilet bowls! I keep doing that, pretty soon everyone will know I have powers."

"Calm down," Sophia instructed. "You'll just have to hold it…"

"I can't hold it forever!" Emma snapped in irritation.

"I know that," Sophia snarked back. "Just hold it until we are at school tomorrow. I think I have a plan."

**-oo00oo-**

**Friday, October 2nd, 2009, 8:56am **

Between 1st and 2nd classes the next day, Sophia stood outside a door while Emma went to the bathroom again. As expected, there was another destroyed commode. The two escaped without detection.

"Is this the plan?" Emma asked as they hurried to the next class.

"No, but don't worry," Sophia said. "It's coming along. Just don't go again until this afternoon. Got it?"

"Yes, I got it."

**-oo00oo-**

**Friday, October 2nd, 2009, 1:02pm **

"You wanted to see me, Miss Hess?"

"Yes, ma'am. I wanted to let you know that I have been investigating those vandalisms in the school with the destroyed toilets."

"You have? Why, that's great. I can't even get the police to do anything."

"No surprise. I'm not even supposed to do it, but since I go to school here, I wanted to contribute to the wellness of the school. Or some shit like that. Anyway, I heard that all the gangs in town are having their thugs throw cherry bombs into the toilets here to blow them up."

"That's terrible. Why are they doing it?" Blackwell wondered aloud.

"Easy. So that people will have to leave school if only to go to the bathroom. Then the ABB can snatch the girls, and the E88 can snatch the guys. You know, because they are all dicks."

Blackwell considered that and replied, "Yes, I had heard that Kaiser loves to look pretty all the time. It certainly fits."

Sophia nodded and said, "As a hero, I have a suggestion. Get 40 port-a-potties for daily use."

Blackwell looked as if someone had just stolen her purse. "Jesus. How much is that going to cost? I don't know if the board will go for the school having to get port-a-potties for daily use."

"Why not? The school will be saving the price of workers constantly fixing the commodes all the time. Plus the cost of the crappers themselves. Plus the water savings should help. Not to mention there is a surplus of port-a-potties since all the business in town stink. You should be able to get them for a cheap price. I had a friend gather a list of companies for you to call. Let me know if you need to convince any of these assholes who rent them out to give you a really good price. I have practice at negotiating."

"You do? Okay. I'll get some calls made. I'll let you know what I find out and if I need your assistance."

Sophia was sent a note during her 6th class for a request to stay after school and talk with the principal. It didn't take long for Sophia to mentally psych herself up for that meeting. In fact, it took no time at all.

**-oo00oo-**

**Friday, October 2nd, 2009, 3:52pm**

With the school mostly empty, and all the kids gone, save for Sophia Hess, Principal Blackwell escorted Lester Holt (no relation) from ABC Port-A-Potty to a meeting room. Lester was a tall man who had worked around construction workers all his life and knew whatever the school administrator needed was going to pad his pocket where he could hopefully go on vacation.

Entering the meeting room, Lester was amazed to see the only other person there was a student. He looked at Principal Blackwell who went to sit next to the student. Shrugging it off, he sat across from them. It was time to begin some negotiations for his vacation.

"This is Sophia Hess. She is on the student council," Blackwell said, indicating the only other person in the room, hoping no one would ask why only one person from the student council was, even if she wasn't on the student council which Blackwell well knew.

"Good to meet you. Now, on the phone you said you needed 40 port-a-potties for an 8-month lease. Correct?"

"Yes," Principal Blackwell answered.

"Normal rates for a port-a-pot is $10 day plus mileage and fees to dump tanks. Figure about $15 a day times 40 stalls times 8 months."

Principal Blackwell's eyes bulged a moment before, unseen by Lester, Sophia kicked the Principal's ankle.

"No," Sophia said.

"Excuse me?" Lester replied.

"I said no. Your plastic crapper boxes are sitting around doing nothing. You haven't rented one of them in four years."

"I can see why you are on the student council," Lester said, trying to butter the young girl up and allow him to keep the high profit margin.

Little did he know she wasn't on the student council, as if she would ever participate with those losers. "Thanks," Sophia said with no other emotion save anger, which was a default setting for her. "But $15 a day per stall is too much. I think a dollar a day per stall is better."

"A dollar?! Christ! I can't make any money on that!"

"Sure you can. You own the crappers. They're not costing you anything now. Or making you any money."

"Fine. Let's say 40 crappers for $1 a day EACH, plus drainage of them on a daily basis for an additional $4 a day, EACH."

"No. I think 40 crappers can be drained for $10 flat rate a day."

"Jesus Christ, kid! I gotta dump those shit boxes at the crap-plant outside of town. And those assholes charge me enough as is. It's a flat rate of $2 each per day I dump them. I don't make that up. Look online and you'll see their prices."

"Fine," Sophia grit her teeth. "Don't take them there. You can dump them in the bay instead."

Lester shook his head and simply stated, "Can't. Against environmental protection agency agreements. They find me doing that, and I'll lose everything, and so will you."

Sophia had a contingency for that. "Fine. Then dump them down the construction shaft over on Blaine Ave. It's a non-used 30-meter deep shaft owned by Desario Construction, and they went out of business years ago. There's nothing there but a long deep shaft which is perfect for holding a lot of shit. It was built years ago for one of those endbringer shelters that never happened."

Lester shook his head again. "Can't. Against city code."

Sophia arched an eyebrow and said in a dangerous voice, "Can't? Or _won't_? Two different things. See, if I were to say I _can't_ beat you fuckin' senseless that is a bit different than saying I _won't_ beat you fuckin' senseless. Do you understand?"

Lester wore a shocked expression for a few seconds while processing what she said, unsure he heard it right.

Sophia then followed that up with, "Another way to look at it is: I _won't_ hesitate to fucking kill assholes like you if you _can't_ get this done. Now do we understand one another?"

Lester was nothing if not a pragmatic individual who wanted to get the hell out of there. "Yes. Price is $40 a day for 40 plastic crappers with the biohazard dumped down that old Desario shaft. This will not include any toilet paper; you provide that. And may I say, Principal Blackwell, that you are certainly doing a good job training the next leaders of tomorrow."

"Thanks!" Principal Blackwell beamed at the praise.

**-oo00oo-**

Emma sat on her bed and pulled out a composition notebook. There was nothing spectacular, nothing out of the ordinary, and although her parents had bought it for her when she was about to start 5th grade, it had never been used.

She opened the black cover and wrote in large blue letters: Property of Emma Barnes. Private Property. Do not read unless I let you. Just close the cover before you read personal information. Failure to do so will allow me to file a lawsuit against you for violating my personal space.

Threat given, she picked up a black pen and began chronicling her life as a cape.

**Emma's Journal entry:**

_Sophia said I should keep a journal for posteriors or something. _

_So here it is. The big reason for doing geek work. _

_I am a cape. _

_Power 1: I can see odors. They show up as different colors. _

_Power 2: I can pee really hard. I mean, really, really hard. To the point I break toilets. I haven't gone at home tonight. Can't afford to. But I think I have an angle on the pee situation. Bladder control. All I have to do is never drink again. That should work… no, wait. Have to go to bathroom. Shit! Better go outside. Wish I was still on better terms with Taylor. I'd user hers. _

**-oo00oo-**

Sophia sat on her bed and pulled out a composition notebook. The stitched notebook originally had a white cover, but was now covered in stickers, doodles, and had the title prominently displayed in the center of the cover which stated: PMS Journal. Under it in multi-color letters was: Fuck Off Already Or I'll Kick You In The Ass! No one ever told Sophia she didn't have a way with words. Well, at least not tell her that without being kicked in the ass.

On the inside cover page was written: Power Management Speculation. Sophia had started this notebook a year earlier as a way to think about how to use her power. As expected, most of the notebook was still unused. That was soon going to change as she had something to write about now.

**Sophia's journal entry:**

**Friday, October 2nd, 2009, 11:52pm**

_Some weird shit is happening here in Brockton Bay. _

_Emma has 2 powers. _

_She can smell farts. Something to do with rainbows or some shit. _

_She can pee so fucking hard it breaks concrete. _

_Why her? How did she get the second one? She hadn't been assaulted by either gang in school that I knew. No blades to her face like last time. So how did she get 2__nd__ power? And when? Gotta figure this out. Feels important. Even if her powers suck ass now, she might get a better one eventually. _

_How to fight with piss-power? Hah! Got it!_

_Get Emma to load up on water. Chug-chug-chug._

_No costume. She goes out as a normal who gets a couple gang bangers to grab her._

_Emma can say she will cooperate and see if gang bangers want to sample her._

_Emma can hike up skirt, not have underwear on, get the two bangers to come close and then -_

_BANG! She opens a can of concentrated piss on the fuckers and blows their fucking heads (big or small, doesn't matter) off.  
_

_Hah! That would be great!_

_To do: see if I can check out video camera from work. Get Kid Win to do it for me. Tell Emma about piss-power possibility above. Maybe she'll do it._

_Not sure if piss-power could stop a real fight. Sure, Emma stripping for someone in order to piss on them might stop people for the shock value, but once she shoots them with high-velocity piss, then that will be all over the PHO boards. _

_Shit. Fucking useless power. _

_Course, I wonder how long it would take her to "reload" instead of it being a one-shot weapon. Maybe I can get her an interview with Piggy with some water nearby and see what happens. Hah! Or that fuck, Armsy. _

**-oo00oo-**

**Author comments: **

As mentioned previously, this is a parahuman comedy. And I had the suspicion after posting the first chapter that many who read it thought it was a stand-alone short story. Nope. There are at least another 15 chapters to come. Likely more.


	3. Chapter 3: Spray Zone

Chapter 03: Spray Zone

By Steve2

Beta by World Theory

**Author's Note:**

I didn't do it. I wasn't there. You're mistaking me for someone else. I was in Buffalo that day. Trust me. What're you – a cop? No? Okay then. Disclaimer: This story has a lot of swearing. There is no gratuitous sex here. Nada. There is, instead, a lot of swearing. You have been warned. Oh, and I don't own Worm, or anything else for that matter. This is a work of fiction.

**-oo00oo-**

**Wednesday, November 11, 2009, 12:33pm**

**3****rd**** Floor Winslow High School**

"Do you see her?" Emma inquired of her friends.

"No. Nothing," Madison replied.

Sophia snarled and said, "Keep looking. I know I saw Hebert head up here."

"Bathroom maybe?" Emma suggested.

Madison shook her head. "No. I checked."

Sophia shushed them. "Quiet. I think I see her."

Madison continued shaking the can in her hand, anticipating the fun of "accidentally" spraying Hebert.

What Madison didn't know, mainly due to the fact she hadn't paid attention in any science class she'd ever had because that was for nerds and not someone as popular as herself, was that most carbonated drinks contained dissolved CO2 (carbon dioxide). And that when the soda was made, a lot of CO2 was dissolved into the liquid. After the can was sealed, the CO2 was trapped in the liquid when the CO2 would have rather left the solution. An equilibrium soon establishes itself between the amount of CO2 in the liquid and the pressure of CO2 gas in the top of the bottle. However, when a can is opened, there is in effect a dramatic decrease in pressure over the liquid, so the CO2 starts to leave the liquid very rapidly, causing the mass exodus of gas, or "explosion" of bubbles. This also explains why soda goes flat. Given enough time, all the CO2 leaves the solution, removing all the dissolved gas which gives the soda its fizziness.

Makes sense, right?

No?

Try this then: the bubbles in soda come from a gas carbon dioxide that was dissolved into the soda. In the open, carbon dioxide prefers to be a gas, but inside a soda bottle where the pressure is high, it's forced to be a liquid. Dissolved carbon dioxide turns into carbonic acid, which is why soda is so bad for teeth. And drinking diet soda doesn't help because it also contains this acid. (This was something she would have known and not drank had she ever paid attention in Science class.) When taking the top off a can of soda, the pressure inside the can decreases and goes to the same pressure as the atmosphere. When that happens the carbon dioxide inside was no longer forced to be a liquid and turns back into a gas, causing bubblization. If a soda sits out for a long time, eventually all the carbon dioxide exits as gas and leaves a flat soda. In fact, most of the bubbles in a soda are at the top, at the surface that's open to the air. Only the bubbles at the top get to escape.

However, shaking a can or bottle of soda mixes up all the bubbles from the surface and they get distributed all throughout the soda and stick to the sides of the container as well. Then, when the container is opened, all the bubbles rush to the surface at once and there's a bit of a traffic jam. In fact, there are so many bubbles all heading to the surface at the same time while the soda itself gets trapped between them and carried out the top with the gas… usually in as fast an exit as possible.

All of this made absolutely no impact to Madison as she searched the corridors for Taylor Hebert, a savage grin on her face. She noticed both Emma and Sophia begin creeping up to a hallway corner. Very few students were up there and they all ignored the three girls. Madison noticed Sophia's body posture change and knew she had the target in sight.

Madison moved her fingers into position with the can. This was going to be so great she knew. Emma turned around with a smile on her face.

"She's just around the corner," Emma grinned savagely.

Madison prepped the tab of the can. Just one little press of a finger and it would spray and spray. Heh-heh.

Emma looked behind her to Madison and asked, "You ready?"

"Yeah," Madison grinned back.

An interesting fact about Winslow. Although built decades before Scion ever showed up, it was still built with substandard materials at the time. The staff of Winslow noticed excessive cracks in the 3rd floor over the years and patched them as best they could, which was another way of saying they patched them with equally crappy materials over and over since they didn't have the funding to patch them correctly the first time. No surprise.

Why was that important? As Madison stepped forward to see where Hebert was, her foot jostled some of the loose concrete on the floor. This made her lose her balance slightly. It also caused her fingers to jostle the can a bit. And press down on the tab, allowing the CO2 to begin its massive escape.

An escape right on Emma who was in direct line of fire. Or spray really.

FFWWWOOOOOSSSSHHHHHH!

Emma glared at the third member of their trio and snarled, "What the fuck, Madison?!"

Emma, dripping wet with a red cola stain over her face, hair, blouse, skirt, and shoes stood with a combination shocked and horrified expression. She looked at her ruined outfit and intensified her glare towards Madison.

"Sorry Emma," Madison said, actually meaning it.

"This was my favorite outfit, Madison! And you just ruined it! I can't get red soda out of this! Dammit! This is the worst day ever!"

**-oo00oo-**

DESIGNATION… HEY, WEREN'T YOU… NEVER MIND. AGREEMENT.

**-oo00oo-**

Sophia noticed the words, but didn't comment on it at that time. She knew the importance of that worst day when it came to powers. She had felt it on herself. Were the words related? But right then it was more important to get Emma out of the line of sight of gawkers.

Sophia looked around and finally said, "Bathroom, Emma. Get cleaned up. Madison, you keep an eye out for Hebert."

Emma headed to bathroom, leaving a trail of red cola footsteps. Sophia followed. Inside, Emma ran water in the sink to get herself cleaned up. Sophia looked in the bathroom for any other students while Emma got the water going.

Confident no other students in the bathroom, Sophia asked Emma, "Do you feel any different?"

Emma used a paper towel to clean her face and angrily replied, "I feel wet and sticky from this goddamn soda, Sophia!"

"Then clean up as best you can. Avoid the damn toilets! I'll get Madison to see if there are any spare clothes in the main office."

Madison, who was listening at the door, swung the door open and said, "I need to get cleaned up. I got sprayed too."

"Not yet. This is a learning experience for you. The next time you will know which way to hold the damn can. Now go to the goddamn main office and come back when you find something that Emma can wear."

Madison left for the main office and hopefully a cache of forgotten clothes in the lost and found that would fit both her and Emma.

Once Madison was gone, Emma stated, "I need to pee."

"No!" Sophia barked.

Emma, still cleaning the cola off her, replied "It's fine. I'm getting better at being able to hold it now. As well as release it in a controlled manner." Emma grabbed more paper towels and began wiping her blouse and skirt which had the most red-cola stains on it. The paper towel disintegrated as she did so, annoying her even more.

"How long can you hold it now?" Sophia inquired crossly.

"Three days."

"How are you controlling it?" Sophia made a mental note of the answers.

Emma grabbed more towels and replied, "Short squirts. I made a game of it. Each squirt is like Morse code."

"Don't geek out on me, Emma."

"Fine," Emma huffed, working on a troublesome stain what would never come out.

The two were quiet for another minute as Emma continued to scrub at her blouse and skirt with ultra-crappy paper towels. Emma slipped into a zone and began to hum a popular song she had heard on the radio recently. A minute later she was singing the song to a beat only she could hear.

Unlike Madison who knew nothing about the carbonation process for soda, Emma actually did know something about singing, and what perfect pitch was. For instance, she knew that perfect pitch was really called absolute pitch which was a rare auditory phenomenon where a person had the ability to identify or re-create a given musical note without the benefit of a reference tone. This allowed a person to hear a musical note and be able to recreate it vocally, or even on a musical instrument like a piano, a trombone, or a digeridoo.

Emma knew this because the chances of getting that ability was about 1 in 10,000 and she knew she was one of them. She had a gift for singing, her mother had told her at a young age. A gift she had practiced at in front of the mirror and in the shower many times. She had worked hard to memorize songs.

Taylor Hebert had heard Emma's loud shriek of anger minutes earlier and had moved away from the trio. She did come back when she saw Madison carrying clothes towards the bathroom she nearly went into herself. Curious, she made her way towards that bathroom and heard Emma humming a song, and then singing its lyrics. Her eyes bulged at the sound.

Unlike Madison, Emma, or Sophia, the one person their age who actually knew what cacophony was turned out to be Taylor Hebert. She knew because her mother had taught her. She knew that cacophony came from joining the Greek prefix kak- (meaning "bad") with phōnē (meaning "sound" or "voice"). In short, it meant: "bad sound." Her mother had once told her that the cacophony of phlegmatic and tubercular lungs was punctuated here and there by a moan or a scream of someone terrified, thrashing in the throes of a nightmare, or by her father when her mother put her cold feet on his bare legs in bed during winter since the house had poor insulation.

Sophia grit her teeth as she listened to Emma mangle (nay, _butcher_ was more like it) a song she previously liked.

Madison had entered the bathroom moments earlier with a couple sweatshirts both she and Emma could wear to cover the stains. Those were the best she could find. As soon as she opened the door and took her first step in, Emma had graduated from humming to singing.

She stopped dead in her tracks, the door closing behind her. She noticed Sophia not saying anything as she listened to Emma as well. Madison moved to Sophia's side and said over the din of the song, "Why is she singing so bad?"

Sophia shrugged her shoulders.

"I've heard Emma sing before and while she was no professional, she can hold a tune. Now, she can't. So what gives? Was it the soda? Did it affect her throat? I bet it did. Chemicals and all that. I'm sure of it."

"Sure," Sophia grunted, trying to get the screeching sound out of her eardrum. "It was the soda."

"I knew it," Madison grinned, glad at finally being right for something.

But Sophia knew better. Something changed. She would have to test Emma more on it after school.

Mrs. Weinheimer was Winslow's current music teacher and had been walking by the third-floor bathroom when she too heard Emma's singing. She stopped near the bathroom to continue listening, much like a driver would stop to see a train wreck. As she listened, she couldn't help but think of some music theory she had learned.

In music, an interval was the difference between two pitches. Intervals were most commonly different between notes of a diatonic scale. Another way to look at it was that an interval was the ratio between two sonic frequencies. For example, any two notes an octave apart have a frequency ratio of 2:1. This meant that successive increments of pitch by the same interval resulted in an exponential increase of frequency, even though the human ear perceived this as a linear increase in pitch.

Mrs. Weinheimer was simply amazed that the young girl in that bathroom could sing the song she was currently killing in 2-part harmony (well, more like cacophony since she was singing parts of the song 8 and 1/2 octaves apart). Mrs. Weinheimer also realized the poor dear was tone deaf and singing in the key that would stun rats if any were in there with her.

Taylor Hebert had long since left the vicinity of the bathroom if only to escape the deafening singing done by her former bff.

**-oo00oo-**

**Emma's Journal entry:**

_Sophia was nice after school. She wanted to hear me sing some more songs. Finally! Something nice happening. Mads was weird. Must have been the soda she got on herself after spraying me with it. Stupid girl. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure how to spray someone with a can of soda. _

_Sophia must be interested in music now. Maybe she plans to be a singer when we graduate. Her side job, of course. She kept asking me music questions and asking me to sing different things as we walked to my house. _

_Oh! We passed by some stunned rats on the sidewalk on the way home. Really weird. They probably ate something bad. _

**-oo00oo-**

**Sophia's journal entry:**

**Wednesday, November 11, 2009, 10:33pm**

_This shit just keeps getting weirder. And that's still saying something for this shit-hole of a fucking city._

_Reason: Emma triggered again. Third power. She can sing really high or really low, or both at the same time, all the while mangling and destroying any song. _

_Her singing sucks to the point where it makes my ears hurt. I would rather listen to nails on a chalkboard than listen to her destroying songs. But trigger happened today. I saw it. How was it a bad day for her? That is the common concept for all powers I know._

_But what happened? Soda on her shirt? Can't be. Need to figure this out. What was the awful part of the day?_

_Talk to Piggy or Armsy? No. Need to figure this out. They'll just call me dumb and look into this themselves. I ain't dumb._

_What to do with power? Maybe I can get her to sing to creeps on street if they don't do what I say. Hmmm. _

_Hah! Got it! I can see this happening:_

_Me: I told you to tell me where Skidmark's base of operations is!_

_Junkie: No way, cape! You can't make me talk!_

_Me: I don't have to. Hey, new cape! Over here and sing to this poor loser._

_I put in earplugs. Can't hear a damn thing with them on, but I can see his face._

_Junkie on ground doesn't get ear plugs cuz he is in zip-tie._

_Emma starts singing her heart out. Doesn't matter to me what she sings since I can't hear it. _

_Junkie says or screams something to me, but I don't hear it. Earplugs, right?_

_He convulses on ground. Like I'm going to buy him doing that._

_Emma stops. I take earplugs out._

_Junkie: I'll talk, I'll talk!_

_Me: Good. Or I'll have new cape here sing you a bedtime lullaby. _

_Junkie: You shit!_

_Me: You wish! _

_Hah! That's be great. Wonder if Emma sang to a junkie long enough they'd start to bleed out of an ear. _

_Hmmm. Need to test that next. Bleed, baby, bleed!_

_Hmmm. Wonder if Kid Win can make a crossbow bolt that sings with Emma's power. Shoot a villain and it sings to them. Bolt would sting, but singing would just plain hurt._

_Interrogation tactic maybe? Hmmm. Need to talk to Piggy on that._

_Wait! That's it! The words: WORST DAY! Hah! I'm a fucking genius! _

_And I figured it out! ME!_

_If she triggered with a third power, could she do a fourth? I need to look into that. And need to set up tests and stuff for that. Guess all that time listening to Kid Win drone on and on about crap is finally paying off._

_This is going to be awesome!_

_Emma's powers are: _

_Smell farts and see rainbows.  
Note: this power is so fucking stupid. But there's gotta be a way to use it. _

_Pee so fucking hard it will break concrete.  
Note: don't let Emma use bathroom at home. Ever._

_Sings so bad it stuns rats. Might be able to stun people. Definitely makes them want to get away from her.  
Note: keep sock available to stuff in her mouth should she start to sing around me. _

**-oo00oo-**

**Author comments: **

Please review and comment.

I am still working on my other stories and will start posting updates shortly.


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